


Seven Minutes In Heaven

by spaloon



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alice Angel Is A Top Thats Just What I Believe., F/F, Second person POV, Tight Spaces, alice has a tail because god cant stop me, set in the guardian angel au, they bang in this so be warned.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 19:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16144052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaloon/pseuds/spaloon
Summary: The angels get trapped inside of a Little Miracle Station after a fetch quest gone bad.Alice doesn't think this is necessarily a bad thing.





	Seven Minutes In Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> this definitely was a thing i wrote with my own two hands huh

It was supposed to be a minor supply run. One of the machines you use to pull fresh ink from your unfortunate subjects had broken down- _yet again_ \- and the plan was to find new, fresh parts for it. It was supposed to be simple, something you’d done a thousand times before. The only difference was that _this_ time you had a clumsy little angel in tow.  
  
All it took was your Heavenly counterpart knocking down a carefully stacked pyramid of bacon soup to call the Ink Demon upon the two of you, (It was strange, really, the things that would send him running,) and when you saw his tell tale splotches of ink begin to seep through the walls you grabbed her and booked it. To anyone else, to any of the other brain rotten creatures that roamed the studio, or the poor few that had been newly pulled from the ink machine, navigating these desolate halls would have been a nightmare. You, however, had thirty years to memorize every single little twist and turn.  
  
“He’s gainin’ on us…!” You hear Alice pant, and you foolishly glance behind you to see the dripping, grinning face you despise so much just meters away. You can feel what remains of a pulse beating in your ears, hear the rotten floorboards creak with every frantic step. Your grip on your angel’s hand is like a vice.

You could have _sworn_ you had put one here- _where was it?_ The demon was close, far too close, Alice’s shoes slip in the ink and threaten to trip you with her-  
  
_There._  
  
As you turn the corner you breathe a frantic sigh of relief at the sight of your Little Miracle Station. You yank Alice forward and wrench open the door, all but diving inside. There’s a muffled yelp as you shove yourself against her, but it can’t be helped. These little booths were barely meant to fit one person, let alone two. She should just be happy you didn't shut the door on her tail.

There’s only the sound of laboured breathing between the two of you. The rectangular slot in the door means that it isn’t quite pitch black, but between the small size of the hole and the gloomy lighting of the studio it may as well be. You can only just make out the pale white of Alice’s face in the darkness.  
  
“Is he gone?” She starts to ask, “Because it’s a _little-”_  
  
You clamp a hand over her mouth, a little tighter than you mean to, and bring your finger to your lips. She blinks at you, but seems to understand the message. Hesitantly, not removing your hand, you gingerly shift yourself to peek out of the slot.  
  
The Ink Demon is standing there, at the end of the hall, utterly still. His face is pointed towards the Little Miracle Station. Towards _you._ Like he can see right into your soul. You feel Alice press against you, to calm the pounding in your chest. It works, despite it all.

...Then, just like that, he’s gone. The ink on the walls fades away, leaving dull stains in its wake. You sigh in relief, falling slack against the wood of your tiny sanctuary. In your arms, you feel Alice wiggle for a moment before she reaches to tug your hand away from her mouth.  
  
“Sheesh, all ya had to do was tell me to be quiet…” She mumbled, the tail trapped between you curling in indignation. “Didn’t have to be so _forceful_ about it…”    
  
“My apologies,” you say. “Next time I’ll leave _you_ outside.”  
  
“You’re forgiven!” Alice chirps, willfully ignoring your threat. You only roll your eyes and move around her to reach for the door. The sooner you leave this cramped little booth, the sooner you can pick up the things you left and get back to the relative safety of Heavenly Toys.  
  
But when you try to push the door open, it doesn’t budge. You blink in confusion. That can’t be right; you never put locks on these things… You move Alice around again to push from the other side, but still nothing.  
  
“Something the matter, doll?” asks Alice, perfectly content to be sitting in your lap while you struggle with the inch of wood keeping you hostage.  
  
“I… Think it’s stuck.”  
  
“Did you try pulling?”  
  
You shoot her an exasperated expression and she shrugs.  
  
“Guess we’re trapped here for a hot second, then…” she hummed, resting her head in her hand, her elbow propped up on your thigh. Then, perking up, she looks up at you through her bangs. “Wanna play seven minutes in heaven?”  
  
Admittedly, the boldness of her proposal makes you blush, but you quickly find your bearings and frown back at her. “Are you out of your _mind?_ Don’t you understand just how vulnerable we are? We may be safe from the Demon in my stations, but god forbid any of the other dirty little _vermin_ catch us in here-”  
  
“You’re not afraid of a couple of harmless lil’ ink blots, are ya, Alice...?”  The angel grins at you, and you can see just the tiniest glint of fangs in the darkness. You’re more than a little aware of the way her tail is starting to curl around your arm.  
  
“Mm. May I remind you what those _harmless inkblots_ did to you the first time we met?”

She leans against you, her head on your shoulder. “I don’t think I have anything to worry about if my guardian angel is here to protect me!”  
  
You _despise_ just how easy it is for her to make you melt. It takes everything you have to pull your focus away from the breath that’s hot on your neck, and even more to ignore just where that tail is creeping… “Would you control that thing for two seconds, you little _devil?”_  
  
Alice mock pouts at you. “Where else am I supposed to put it when a gal barely has enough room to breathe?”  
_  
_ “I’m working on it.”

“You work too hard, Alice,” she says, and uses her tail to pull your arm forward, around her waist. “We’ll be safe in here. You have my angel’s honor.” You don’t say anything, don't have the chance to, before she's twisting around to put a hand on your torn cheek. You can feel ink bead up at her touch, drip between her fingers. “Why don’t I help you relax a bit?”

“The only thing you’re helping is helping me to my _grave,”_ you breathe, but you lean into her touch anyway. The way she grins at you makes you want to wipe it off her face. “You know, if we get caught, I’m going to take my lost progress from _you.”_

“Fair enough,” Alice giggles.

She’s just inches away, you can feel the heat radiating off her, warming the dead ink that makes up your skin. It doesn't take much to close the gap between you, and her lips are soft against yours. So lifelike it was hard to think of her as anything but flesh and blood. Your hands, still being guided by that tail, trail down to her rear to pull her up more fully into your lap. More than a little difficult, providing the limited space, but you make due.

“Mm, you sure are handsy for a gal that was makin’ so many threats earlier,” she coos, and you hate that she’s right. You pull her back into the kiss to shut her up instead, tangling your fingers into her pretty black hair to keep her there. You don't expect her to prick your lips with her teeth. The quick shock of pain is enough to make you gasp and Alice takes the opportunity to push her forked tongue into your mouth, curling it against yours. She presses fingers against the gash in the side of your face, against your teeth, and there’s nothing but the taste of ink.

There’s a creak in the wood when she pushes against you and you wince at the sound, but quickly forget about it when you feel your angels gloved hand move from their spot on your thigh to your hip, taking your dress with it. Breaking the kiss, Alice moves out of your lap just enough to pull it up the rest of the way, then dives back in to press little smooches along your dripping, exposed cheek. She trails ink and lipstick wherever she goes, further down until she reaches your collar bone.

“You’re so beautiful like this, Susie,” she whispers, and her fingers find their place between your legs, slipping against your wet flesh. You can’t even find the anger in yourself to chastise her for using the wrong name, not when she buries herself inside of you, gracing you with her heavenly touch.

"A-Alice… Jesus Christ,” you mutter, your fist balled up so tight in her hair that it should hurt her, but somehow it doesn’t. You try and lean your head back, give her more space, but you only succeed in thunking a horn against the wooden wall behind you.

“Shh, dear. You aren’t seeing the holy man quite yet. It’s still just lil’ ol’ me.”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes, and let Alice draw out the sins from your flesh. When you open them again you see something through the hole in the door that makes your heart stop.

There, just barely visible, is the mangled, lurching form of one of the butcher gang. He’s followed by another, then a third, all bunched together just like in the awful little cartoons they crawled out of. You can only imagine they were drawn by the sound, something that’s confirmed when Alice sits down on your thigh and causes the Little Miracle Station to creak again, turning all three of their heads.

You suck in your breath, wanting to get Alice’s attention to the danger outside, but you're cut short when she curls her fingers inside of you and makes you see stars. The Butcher Gang are making their way to you now- but, _fuck_ , you're so close- you can only bite down on your knuckle to stifle your noise. She seems to understand what's happening without even turning around, can probably feel you stiffen, but she only redoubles her efforts.

She’s grinding herself down on your thigh, her flesh burning hot, and you wish you could ram her against the flimsy wooden wall and tear her apart. She’s inside of you, a part of you, and it makes you so dizzy you barely even jump when you hear the sound of a lead pipe whack against the door, rattling the foundation. You want to cry out, but the angel doesn’t let you, instead using her free hand to wrench your knuckles from your mouth so she can press your face against her neck instead.

You gratefully sink your teeth into her smooth, porcelain skin, hard enough to leave a bruise, if she was even able to get them. It muffles you well enough that you don’t hear another sound from outside for a while, though you wouldn’t dare to check now and risk seeing one of the disgusting things. No, you’d rather focus on Alice, perfect, beautiful Alice, as she grinds her palm against your clit, making your hips jerk against her. Your hand reaches around to her rear, and you already feel her tail curl around it, guiding your fingers until you feel the dripping wet spot between her thighs. The angle is awkward, but you do your best to slip inside, and you swear you hear a stilted moan escape her lips, her tail tightening like a vice around your arm.

You don't know if it’s enough to finish her off, because she hits you in just the right spot to bring you over the edge, and your mind goes blank. She draws out your orgasm for as long as she can, strings you along until you're left nothing but a shaking, shuddering mess in her arms.

There’s a long silence after everything’s over.

You peek an eye open to see if the little monsters are still upon you, and breathe a deep sigh of relief through your nose when you can’t find them.

Finally, breath ragged, you pull yourself away from Alice’s neck, trailing ink from your swollen lips. There’s no denying the harsh welt you left behind, and you can't help but feel a sort of smugness because of it. The rest of her is just as much of a mess; mussed hair, lipstick and ink smudged all along her face and dripping down her chin…

She pulls out of you and lifts her hand to your face, and you don't protest when she pushes the damp fingers past your lips, watching you expectantly. You lick off the overpowering taste of ink, it coats your tongue and the back of your throat and still lingers when you swallow, but it earns you a smile and a sweet little kiss, and that's enough.

“It looks like we’re alone, now,” she says, turning away from you to look outside. “How about we go for round two?”

“As appealing as that sounds,” you manage, finally regaining your voice, “I think we’ve taken more than enough risks for today…”

“Aw, I’m only jokin’... C’mon, let’s go home.” Alice slides off of you, and, as you watch, dumbfounded, swings open the door of the Little Miracle Station.

You blink, watching her step outside to stretch and straighten her dress. “You… you…” You close your mouth and resist the urge to wring the girls neck. “You could have opened the door at _any time?!”_

Alice only shrugs with a lopsided smile. “Not at any time! Only when it was funny.”

She should be lucky that your legs are still wet and uneasy, or there’d be nothing stopping you from crawling out of the booth and throttling her. “I’m… I’m going to kill you.”

There’s a playful little laugh.

“Oh, sweetheart, angels shouldn’t tell such bold lies… besides, how would you ever get into Heaven then?” She leans into the box, tail flicking, and puts a hand to her chin, tilting her head just so. “Though if these marks are any indication, I think you might have visited already!”

You think you surprise her when you grab her arm and pull her back inside again.


End file.
